The Hope; The Regret

On some nights, like tonight, I feel like a brick has hit my chest.
Confidence shatters into a million shreds of guilt and decaying panel, things that can make me bleed if I sift through the damages too quickly, if I am to rebuild an image of security for myself.

As day comes to close and unwelcome hauntings terrify the wills I have, I feel naked.
That when people see me, that is all they will see.

That my past is me.
That my mistakes are me.

And although proverb and time creates otherwise, admittedly, in the sonder of life and the bright overexposure of every other individual’s problems, it will take me a while to get over these fears.

It will take a while for realizations, new habits, new graces to glean on me as I shuffle my feet into a more confident soul; one whose heart becomes attached to his dreams and ambitions and less to the scatterbrain fool which led him down those dark paths, a serious man who cries for the Israeli sun and less of a foolish man who lives in his past, a new core of an old story which will be told with humble pride and not a guilty shame.

If you are struggling with your ghosts tonight, something terribly difficult to address, you are not alone, and that is all you need to know right now.

Rosh Hashanah is a time of grieving in these guilts and adapting a new cloak, a new shield, and taking responsibility for becoming the mensch, the serious man, you are called from your heart to be.


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